The General
by tardisnumber221b
Summary: A short character study-ish one-shot of everybody's favourite sniper. Post-Reichenbach, mentioned character death, actual character death. I suppose it sounds worse than it is. Rated T because I'm paranoid.


_**A/N: Hello. Welcome to well, this thing. Word count 1,009 and my first crack at writing a somewhat publishable story substitute. Well, I hope you enjoy the journey. It's kind of more a character study thingy, really. Except for the death in the end. So basically a character-study-before-he-dies-thingy? Decide for yourselves. Thank you for choosing MwCaL Airlines and do not forget to review. Even if you absolutely hate it. Any kind of feedback is appreciated. Anyway, to the story...**_

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Everything started falling apart after The Fall. Of course, Sebastian supposed it would only make sense. When the commander is gone, the army falls apart inevitably, whether or not there's a stubborn general trying to save it. And try save it he had. But he was, in no way, and nowhere near being Jim Moriarty. The man with the key is king and Sebastian didn't have any keys. Not anymore.

The first few weeks hadn't been so bad. Sebastian had managed to keep His death a secret. He knew a little of the business, of course. Being Moriarty's pet had granted him better knowledge than to others. Still, that knowledge was not enough to keep an international criminal empire up and running. The business had been doomed from the second Jim Moriarty went to meet Sherlock Holmes on St. Bart's hospital roof.

The latter had survived, obviously. He was slowly but steadily taking on the web, strand by strand, until he'd reach the new centre which, even though unbalanced and teetering, was struggling to keep it all together. Because losing The Web meant losing the last thread he had left of Him, and Sebastian couldn't allow himself to do that. Certainly not yet. There were still final instructions to follow, whispers shared in the middle of night on a king-sized bed, commands issued through a text, never a phone call like normal people. Jim Moriarty had been absolutely insane, but he had at least known what he had been doing. Sebastian Moran didn't have a clue.

Still, with the determination of a loyal dog, he did his best and managed to hold the Web together for a year and a half. Near the end, it was more of a threadbare cloth than the proper, elegant lace it had once been, but Sebastian was proud. At least he hadn't given up.

The final instructions had been fulfilled, more or less. The memory of the world's only consulting criminal would live on, even if the man himself wouldn't.

After the second Fall, this time the fall of the Empire after the emperor, Sebastian knew Holmes was coming after him. It was inevitable. He was the last obstacle between Sherlock Holmes and redemption. There was no question about his fate. He had to be removed.

Strangely enough, Sebastian did not fear death. Unlike his two years of military service when he'd secretly been terrified of every possibility of death, service as a sniper under Moriarty's command had liberated him from that fear. Perhaps it had been the man himself, dealing out orders of execution like flyers to a public event. Perhaps it had been the way Sebastian had extinguished an uncountable number of human lives without hesitation. Perhaps it had been a mixture of both.

What mattered now, however, was that he did not fear death. If anything, he welcomed the nearing end of his life. But he did need to keep up appearances.

Which was the main reason he found himself on board of a private aircraft on its way to Switzerland. He'd always found it fascinating, and it wouldn't hurt to keep Holmes waiting for a little longer. Sebastian was not much for grudges. He preferred to deal with the people he disliked swiftly and with a rifle in hand.

It took him two days to reach the lonely mountain lodge he'd bought two years ago when his wages had finally started piling up on his account.

He settled in and waited. Apparently, Holmes was as good as Jim had said he was for he reached the house mere ten hours after Sebastian's arrival. True, he had lagged with his hike but he was still a little impressed.

Sebastian Moran attempted to tame his unruly blond hair with no avail and stared at the tired face in the mirror. The man in the mirror had a two-day stubble and sad, lifeless blue eyes. The face was angular and the cheekbones protruded, but not naturally. More likely because of several weeks of skipped meals and lack of sleep. The eyes flashed when catlike footsteps, that would have been unnoticeable had they not been anticipated, were heard. His heartbeat like a drum inside his head, Sebastian Moran calmly stepped away from the mirror and stood in the middle of the hallway. He had settled himself properly just as the door opened and another man stepped in.

From his dark curls, long black coat and icy blue eyes Sebastian recognized the famous Sherlock Holmes, the man who had been almost a god to his boss.

The recognition was mutual.

"Moran, I presume," said Holmes calmly, like he had all the time in the world.

"Sherlock Holmes," Sebastian hissed, not bothering to waste time on politeness. He was going to die anyway, whether or not he showed hospitality.

"Don't bother to come in. Let's just get it over with."

Holmes smiled, the expression not reaching his eyes.

"Very well," he muttered. "I see you don't bother to waste any time."

"Oh, believe me when I say all I've got is time. I'm not so sure about your friend though. What was his name again? John... Watson, right?"

He smiled as the other man's face took on a shocked expression.

"Leave John out of this," he spat, his shock swiftly switching into anger, "or I swear I'll make you suffer. "

"Not so noble any more, are you?" Sebastian laughed for the first time in over a year.

Holmes's only reply was pulling out a handgun from his coat pocket.

He cocked it and pointed the firearm at Sebastian, who laughed even harder. It was a desperate, choking laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"Do it," Sebastian managed to wheeze between his giggles. "Do it now and you have finally won."

"I was never after victory," whispered Holmes as he pulled the trigger with an emotionless stare. That stare was the last thing Sebastian Moran saw before the sharp pain in his chest choked his laughter and the overwhelming darkness claimed him.


End file.
